Love in a Rideshare: in 10 Millennials Have “Hooked-Up” in the Back Seat

By Brionna Lewis

Have you ever gotten hot and heavy in the back of your Uber or Lyft ride? You’re not alone. As they say, there’s nothing new under the sun, including getting frisky in a car. From traditional drive-in movie action to Beyonce asking the limo driver to “roll up the partition,” back seat loving is probably as old as cars themselves. What is new? Rideshares. We were interested in seeing how the popularity of rideshares has changed romance in cars, so we surveyed 1,000 millennials in cities across the country to find out about their romantic encounters in rideshares.

Our findings are interesting

You may remember a few edgy 2011 posts from the Uber data blog. One of the posts highlighted the correlation of peak ridership and neighborhoods in San Francisco with the highest rates of prostitution, theft and alcohol-related crimes. In another post, Uber coined the term “Ride of Glory,” someone presumably taking an Uber home after a one-night stand:

“A RoGer is anyone who took a ride between 10 p.m. and 4 a.m. on a Friday or Saturday night, and then took a second ride from within 1/10th of a mile of the previous nights’ drop-off point 4-6 hours later (enough for a quick night’s sleep).”

After facing a firestorm of criticism regarding privacy, heavy-handed PR tactics and attitudes towards women, Uber removed the post from its blog.

The Official Word

As far as official policies go, Uber’s is pretty explicit. Their Community Guidelines state that the sexual and romantic behavior we found many riders engaging in could lead to the loss of access to Uber. “As our community guidelines make clear, you shouldn’t touch or flirt with other people in the car. As a reminder, Uber has a no sex rule. That’s no sexual conduct with drivers or fellow riders, no matter what. And you should never hit or otherwise hurt a driver or fellow passenger.”

While Lyft doesn’t have any explicit policies for this type of behavior, they encourage drivers to put their safety first, empowering them to cancel any ride if they feel unsafe or uncomfortable. “You have the right to decide if you feel comfortable picking up a passenger. Your safety comes first. If you ever drive up to a passenger and you feel uncomfortable for safety reasons, let us know about it as soon as possible by tapping ‘Contact Support’ below. You may ask the passenger to cancel the ride, or cancel it yourself if they won’t.”

Our advice?

Riders participating in extracurricular activities in a rideshare should do so at their own risk. Brionna is on a roller coaster that only goes up. You can follow her on twitter @BrionnaLewis -




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By Lainie Speiser

When I started working in the adult industry, I was 22 years old, six months out of college and I was either the same age or younger than the average centerfold/porn star and people called me “The Babysitter.” As The Babysitter, I would meet the girls at the hotel, prep them about the photo shoot, bring them up to the office to meet everyone, keep them company and every once in a while go to an event or a convention. I didn’t book media back then; I was learning from my lady boss who was in her forties and would ominously bring the talent into her office, lock the door, pull down the shades and ask them to try on the outfits they brought for their publicity photos. This creeped the heck out of everyone who entered. My boss at the time was a big, sturdy Italian woman with a thick Yonkers accent who pronounced China, Chiner. “Is she just a scary lesbian?” I was asked many times afterward. “No,” I’d answer because she was crushing hard on our publisher who was 100% all-man. “Not a lesbian. She’s just scary. And she went to Catholic school for most of her schooling.” When the scary lady boss eventually left, I inherited her job. Despite her unusual methods, she taught me a lot about hard work and perseverance, and when the girls came to town, I didn’t use those methods of intimidation.

And gradually as time went by and I got older and moved up the porno ladder, people called me, “The Momma” or the “Momma Bear,” the latter name I really can’t stand, but let it go since it comes from a positive place. I’ve never had children of my own and never considered myself a maternal person.  My only time I’ve ever spent with real children was when I made a boatload of money from actual babysitting all through middle school and high school. I was a very popular babysitter without even trying to get work, and when I started dressing like a punk dominatrix covered in spiked jewelry and rocking equally spiky hair, I still had my weekends filled with babysitting jobs. Parents even trusted me enough to go away on overnight trips and leave me in charge of their precious, little ones. What was the secret to my success? I let the kids do whatever they wanted within reason, watch Cinemax, backyard wrestling matches, you name it. I told the kids if somebody gets hurt, know that I will never be coming back here again. Not much of a Momma Bear to me, but somehow this always worked.

I never thought of the age difference between me and the porn stars until I started working with teenagers like Belle Knox and Kendra Sunderland, and the world that saw us walking down the street thought we were mother and daughter. “Is that your daughter?” the cab driver asked me as I told him to drop me off across the street where the pretty brunette in the sundress was standing. It was Belle Knox, and we both have kinky hair and distinctive noses— why wouldn’t he think she came out of my vagina? “Yes, she’s visiting from school!” I crowed. “She goes to Duke University; she’s such a smart girl!” While other women may feel old from this, I get a kick out of being thought of as anyone’s parent, much less the parent of a gorgeous young lady. While taking Kendra Sunderland around New York City a few years ago, I had us stop to have her portrait done in Times Square as a souvenir. The Asian lady who was drawing Kendra smiled and said, “Is that your Mommy?” To which Kendra and I said in unison, “I wish!” If someone thinks a tall, blonde, beauty like Kendra is my daughter it only means that they think I’m beautiful too— she takes after me!

Sometimes I’ve had to do the duties of a Mom, lend some support, a shoulder to cry on, helping through a breakup or giving dating advice. Once I randomly got a text from a client that said, “I left my vibrator at home … any suggestions?” I asked her if she had an electric toothbrush and if so use that, handle first of course. One hour later I got the thumbs up emoji, and I felt satisfied with myself. Other times my role as Mommy has meant to literally clean up after my “children.” One client was in a meeting with me at a major entertainment company and at the end of it asked everyone to leave for a moment to talk to me alone. When they left she leaned over and said, “I got my period all over the chair.” I told her to get up and yep, there was a crimson tide. “Let’s just move the chair to the back of the room and leave,” she panicked. I could never leave a mess like that behind, I said no and looked through my bag for my trusty Wet Ones and wiped the wooden chair clean. Now writing this I wonder why I didn’t give the wipe to her and have her clean it herself and I wonder why I also took her to the bathroom and helped scrub the bloodstain off the back of her dress.

I had a client who only pooped with an enema. We were at a radio station, and before the show started, she complained of cramps and gas pains and whispered, “I haven’t taken a shit in three days.” I asked her if she needed me to run downstairs for some ex-lax and she said no but she would love it if I picked up a few Fleets. “What’s a Fleet?” I asked, which made her stop whispering and start laughing. “It’s an enema; you don’t know Fleet? Haven’t you ever had an enema?” I think I’d remember if I had a hose up my ass, I told her. Apparently, this young lady got into the habit of using them when she became a porn star, preparing for anal scenes. She decided this was a much more efficient way to poop than my way of waking up in the morning, having two sips of coffee and running to the bathroom. I went downstairs to a Duane Reade and picked up the Fleets, completely mortified asking the clerk where they carried them. I gave them to her after the show but I told her she should really get off them. Call me old-fashioned, but it doesn’t sound like the healthiest way to evacuate your waste.

One time I literally had to wipe asses. I was at the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally with three Penthouse Pets; we had a booth giving away autographs and special Penthouse Magazine black t-shirts under a very hot big top. If you’ve ever been to South Dakota in the summer you know it’s hotter than Hades; we must have sweat off 20 pounds during this trip. The three Pets were given some hard stools to sit on, so a fellow Penthouse staffer piled some t-shirts on each chair for the girls to sit on and use as a cushion for their cute, little tushies. The three young ladies were wearing tiny denim mini-skirts, so their g-string clad butts were sitting directly on these tee shirts, and when they got up, I immediately noticed the black dye had come off from sweating profusely. Once again, I pulled out the always handy baby wipes from my bag, crouched down and wiped their butts, got the black dye all over my hands, it was a mess, but a great photo op for the crowd.

As a Porn Mommy, I’ve had to look out for my sexy brood first, and party later. You can’t get drunk when you’re responsible for the safety of a group of young ladies whom everyone wants to bone. At a Superbowl party, I scooped a young lady off the men’s room bathroom floor, cleaned her up (yes, more cleaning) and got her a ride back to the hotel with security. It wasn’t too stressful, but enough that I lit a cigarette afterward and then noticed I still had the stank of her vomit under my fingernails. At the same Superbowl weekend, I was informed by the limo company that an extra charge was being attached for urine cleanup. I went one-by-one to all 15 centerfolds to try to find the culprit of this unfortunate accident. “Who did this? Do you think it’s very ladylike to be so drunk that you passed out and pissed 

yourself?” I sounded just like my Mom after the time I called her up after an office Christmas Party drunk out of my mind yelling, “I’m home! I’m home!”

But these silly little incidents aside, I’ve always been in awe of my girls. They are independent, young ladies who make their own money and are completely in charge of their own lives. They make their own life decisions; they travel the world, they mingle with all kinds of people, they go to places and experience things that the average 20-year-old could only dream of. While most women their ages are living with their parents or living off the grace of their parents, these ladies are self-made and self-reliant. They are shrewd women who are planning their futures, some going to school part-time, others working towards owning their own businesses and many of them have started their own production companies. They negotiate contracts with seasoned business people, and they get what they want. These women don’t just talk about being feminists; they are the very example of what a feminist is. They are living the life that their peers only read about. I myself could never have handled the lives they lead at their age, and I am moved by their accomplishments. Whenever I’m around college-aged civilian women, I am struck by how much younger and dumber they seem compared to my girls.  They are young adults living in a very adult world that is beyond their years. When you really think about it, you’d have to admit, it’s pretty fucking impressive, and this Porn Mom couldn’t be any prouder of them.

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